


Grave Dirt

by Svart_Jade



Series: River Child [1]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Radio Calls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-05 12:49:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20489156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Svart_Jade/pseuds/Svart_Jade
Summary: Who's gonna dig theses graves?Who's gonna dig theses graves?Somebody help me dig these graves, I can't do it all my own.





	Grave Dirt

The shovel was heavy in his hands, wood worn and damp with sweat. It had rained the night before, the ground still damp and easy to break but graves were never an easy thing. He didn’t know what hymns to sing over the sheet wrapped body, how to ease a passing days old when he didn’t have a god to pray to. But the earth now cradled her child, overlooking the sea of golden wheat swaying in the wind. Peace in a place without peace and that was the best Charlie could offer. 

"Deputy Rivers."

The blood, sweat and dirt buried under his nails and stained to his palms burned as his radio crackled, the oil slick voice of the youngest Seed brother curling out to hang in the early morning air like smoke. Choking and suffocating with little regard to everyone it affected. 

Charlie’s voice was a flat even as he unhooked his radio and lifted it to his lips, cold as the grave he had just finished filling. "Speaking." Men like John liked to hear themselves speak, spoiling for attention and ready to lash out like a child when they didn’t get it. Better to shoulder the burden and deal with what came. 

John’s voice was practically etched with glee, pooling out so thick that Charlie could practically taste it, like molasses left in the sun. "I was hoping that I would be able to speak with you, Deputy. I am  _ so  _ glad that you decided to answer."

Sighing and partially wishing that he had just left the radio unanswered, Charlie shoved the shovel into the dirt and slumped onto a nearby log, uncaring if his jeans were ruined by the damp wood. Dragging a hand through red curls, Charlie grimaced as he realized that he had just smeared god knows what through his hair before glaring at the radio like it was it’s fault. “What do you want John?” The  _ ‘I’m not in the mood for your shit’ _ went unspoken but he was sure the Herald was smart enough to pick up on the message.. 

Or maybe not.    


"You see, the lovely Hudson has informed me that you were the Department's medical officer. Is that right, Deputy?"  _ Joey.  _ Four weeks and they weren’t any closer to freeing Hudson from John’s grasp. And their progress with Staci and Jacob wasn’t any better. If it wasn’t for Burke burning across the County raising hell for the Cult and Whitehorse leading the resistance against Faith from the Jail, Charlie might have considered Hope County a lost cause. 

"Yeah, I was." Junior Deputy Charles Rivers,  TEMS. Tactical Emergency Medical Support, the first to respond during an active shooting or any other situation that would have involved the Sheriff's Department before the paramedics could arrive. He was so proud to be able to help, and had gladly stepped forward when Sheriff Whitehorse has asked him to join them on the flight to arrest Joseph Seed. Just in case the worst happened. Well the worst had happened and there wasn’t a damn thing Charlie could have done to stop it. 

He had stayed in the helicopter with Pratt while Whitehorse, Burke and Hudson had marched through the cries and whispers of the Peggies and into the church to arrest Joseph Seed. Charlie still didn’t know exactly what had happened inside those four walls but out they had walked with the Father in chains. Something in those blue eyes, so similar in shade to Charlie’s own, had unnerved the man but he had held his silence and strapped in as the compound screamed it’s denial at the loss of their prophet. 

In the cool of the night, when he closed his eyes, Charlie could still see the spray of blood across the helicopter’s windshields as one of cultists launched themselves into the blades to bring it down. Just one more nightmare to add to the parade he had gathered in the weeks since he had been weighed and found wanting. 

And the man that would balance his heart on the scales against the feather of truth seemed to delight in sinking his claws into weeping wounds and tearing them open to reveal the bone beneath. Seeking blood as his words probed for weakness, to tear down and break so John could build them back up in the Father’s image. "Then why do you call yourself a healer, yet _ insist _ on inflicting more suffering on the people around you? Prolonging their pain by encouraging their needless resistance, preventing them from reaching the  _ salvation  _ we offer.”   
  
The words were righteous, soaked in a frantic belief that what they were doing was truly meant to  _ help. _ “We are saving their  _ lives,  _ Deputy. And once we wash the sin from your eyes, you will be able to see that.” Some distant part of Charlie honestly pitted John for that, that the man had been so broken by his life and the actions of others that he thought this was the only way. But Charlie didn’t have enough heart to go around for every flawed soul that came his way, especially for those that didn’t want his help.    
  
“John, do you know what I’m doing right now?”   
  
The reply was hesitant, but curious. Bait that John couldn’t resist going for in a need to know  _ everything _ . “Destroying more of our property I assume?” Silos going up in flame and tankers full of gas run off the road, not Charlie’s work but the truth never really mattered to them, did it?   
  
“I’m cutting down and burying the men and women that you and your  _ cult _ had murdered and strung up around the county like  _ fucking pinatas!”  _ They had been nailed to crosses, wires wrapped around their necks. Charlie didn't know if he should count it as a mercy but there was sacks covering their faces. If he was lucky he would find them the day after, if not they would have been left in the sun to rot for days. Were they messages?  _ This is what happens if you disobey the Father. _ “Don’t you  _ dare _ preach to me about saving lives, John! _ ”  _ Charlie was the one to take them down. He had pried the nails free and cut the wires. He knew that they were still alive when they had been strung up, left to suffer a slow and painful death. There had been no mercy here for them.    
_   
_ “I know your sin isn’t  _ Wrath _ , Deputy. Not like the Marshall. Do not stumble like he has.” 

The flinch rocked his body as if he had been struck at the mention of Burke and his  _ sins.  _ Charlie understood the need of sacrifice, to severe the limb to save the life. But there were too many broken bodies in the Marshall’s wake. Outposts taken with no care for the lives spent and the graves dug in the effort. No care for anyone else’s survival, as the water pooled into the car and he couldn't get the seat belt undone, he didn’t want to die like this, he didn’t want to die-

And suddenly he was just so fucking  _ tired.  _ Tired of all this fucking fighting, tired of the weeping and the sheer pointless  _ cruelty _ . “Then what is my sin, John?” Grief wasn’t a sin, but some days he wished it was so he could just let John carve it out and be free of it. Free of the clutching hands of the dead that he wasn’t quick enough to save, dragging him down and coaxing him to rest with them. So Sloth then, having surrendered to despair, being unable to bear the weight of what was needed.    
  
And suddenly John sounded so kind, extending an olive branch, desperate to help like the price of his aid wasn’t a pound of flesh to be paid in full. “I can help you. Confess to me, Deputy. My men will come and get you, and I will wash your soul clean. Then together, we can march to Eden’s Gate. All you need to do is say  _ yes _ .”    
  


Charlie had been caught in the bliss once before, a drug filled haze that traded his burdens for chains. Was their Paradise worth the price of admission? Staring at the freshly dug grave, Charlie highly doubted it. “Maybe one day. But I have some graves I need to dig first.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at edens-gay@tumblr.com


End file.
